


Locked out

by Dunderklumpen



Category: Primeval
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 03:25:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dunderklumpen/pseuds/Dunderklumpen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>About lost and new friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Locked out

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by episode 104 with the dodos. So I'm in the process of translating some of my Primeval fanfiction. I've only a couple of stories but I always wanted to translate them some day. Finally I made a start. Usually I've trouble with my translations because I'm never satisfied with the result. But I decided to post anyway because to be honest... Primeval fandom in Germany is tiny.
> 
> If you want to read the german original "Ausgesperrt" (which is a bit more smoothly style-wise) you can find it here: http://dunder-fic.livejournal.com/51830.html#cutid1
> 
> Beta: A huge "thank you" to darkhorse_99 who helped tremendously with the translation and the beta.

It was deadly silent at the ARC. The corridors were dimly lit which caused an eerie feeling. Becker sighed and grabbed his bag. He had taken his time in the showers and was the last of his team to leave the locker room. On days like today he wondered why he had chosen to work in the military and how the heck he got the idea to make a career out of it. He shook his head as if he could free himself from all negative thoughts. There was a simple answer to these questions: Because he was good at it!

He tightened his grip around the bag’s handles and went down the hallway. He stopped in front of a closed door. The sign read 'Laboratory 3', and Becker glanced curiously at the weak light which fell from inside over the threshold onto the corridor.

He knocked quietly but nobody answered. A second time he brushed his knuckles against the wood but everything stayed silent. He tried the doorknob and found the room unlocked. Carefully he opened the door and entered. He didn’t even expect someone to be there. Chances were high that they just had forgotten to switch-off the lights. But to his surprise he saw a figure sitting at the small table on the right. With one look he recognized Connor, who was crouched over the table top. In front of him was a flask with clear liquid.

“Connor?“ Becker asked and took a step towards him.

The boy didn’t react.

“Connor?“ Becker called louder, but he still didn’t look up. With two rushed steps he was at Connor's side and took him by the shoulders.

“Connor?” he repeated a third time, now with concern in his voice.

Connor looked up, his expression so sad and lonely that Becker caught his breath. Although there was only a small lamp lit at the desk he could see that the boy had been crying. His eyes were red and swollen, streaks of dried tears still visible on his cheeks.

“Go away!” Connor mumbled and tried to get rid of Becker’s grip around his shoulders.

“Connor, what…?” The Captain started to say but he stopped again when the smell of biting alcohol hit his nose. He eyed the flask sceptically and picked it up. He sniffed at it and found his suspicions confirmed, home-brewed, and quite a strong one. With a quiet clank he put it back on the table.

“How much did you drink?” He asked strictly and released Connor’s shoulders. The young man regarded him with glassy eyes.

“Not enough,” he answered.

Becker shook is head in resignation.

“And why?” He continued and took the seat next to Connor.

“’Cause I lossss m’key,“ the dinosaur expert slurred while he took the flask to pour himself another sip. With uncoordinated movements he lowered the neck of the bottle and slammed it hard against the edge of the glass.

Becker frowned and took the flask from him. He didn’t need much strength to force it out of Connor’s hands who in his turn stared, annoyed at him. But instead of putting the alcohol away, Becker filled the glass without breaking anything or spilling half of the precious liquid on the table.

Connor eyed the drink first, and then Becker suspiciously before he thankfully took him up on is offer. He brought the glass to his lips and emptied it in one go.

“Heyheyhey…“ Becker interfered, his hand on Connors raised arm. “Slow down!“

Instead of an answer Connor pushed the glass in front of Becker again, who hesitantly filled it, this time only half full. He turned and searched the room until he had found what he was looking for. Without a word he rose, went to the back of the laboratory and returned with a second glass in his hands.

“Nobody should drink alone,“ he explained and poured himself two fingers of alcohol. Connor grinned.

“Capt’n Becker,” he slurred, “didn’t take you for a drinker.”

Becker grinned as well and raised his glass in a toast. “Ditto,” he replied, amused, and with mischief in his eyes.

They sat next to each other in silence. No matter what it was that bothered the boy, Becker knew that Connor would talk to him when he was ready. If not, he would at least make sure that he would reach home in one piece. He cleared his throat quietly and emptied his glass. When he put it back on the table he felt Connor’s eyes on him and met his gaze calmly.

“I lost my key.“ Connor repeated his earlier statement.

Becker nodded but kept quiet.

“I’ve n-nev’r los m’ key before,” he continued.

“What’s with Abby? Doesn’t she have a second key?”

Connor shook his head. “That’s not the point,” he answered surprisingly sober.

Becker examined him closely. “What is the point?“

“Tom and Duncan.“

“Who?“ the Captain asked. He had a feeling that he knew the names but he couldn’t for the live of him remember any ARC members with these names who worked together with Connor.

“Tom always had my spare key,” Connor continued as if he hadn’t heard Becker’s question. “I never needed it but I always knew where I could find it.” He gulped down the rest of his glass.

Becker thought hard and taxed his brain. “Tom, Tom, Tom… a friend of Connor’s…“ Suddenly it dawned on him why he knew these names.  
Briefly after his start at the ARC he had studied all the documents of old cases in order to prepare himself for possible scenarios. Back then he had read about this particular case. If he remembered correctly, it had to do with dodos. All in all, not a high risk species which would eat you alive on sight but despite that still deadly.

They carried unknown parasites in them which attacked Tom. The disease caused a massive paranoid personality disorder and Tom had almost killed Abby before Captain Ryan’s team could solve the problem.

Back then he had hardly given any attention to the fact that it concerned Connor’s friends. But now he knew the boy and understood the importance of the whole situation.

Thoughtfully he ran his finger along the edge of the glass while Connor eyed the alcohol left in the flask. Becker saw it and shared the rest between them. He knew exactly how Connor felt. Knew the moments when things you thought forgotten came back from the past.

They hit you out of nowhere and knocked you out cold. Memories you wanted to forget, you hadn’t thought about in years – and then you lay awake at night or you showered or you bought bread and suddenly they were there – as clear as if it happened yesterday. These were moments he knew all too well. And there weren’t many things that could help.

He looked at Connor, tightened the grip around his glass and raised it in the air. “To friends,” he toasted.

Connor’s eyes got shiny and he raised his glass as well. “To friends”, he repeated and let the contents of the glass slid down his throat.


End file.
